


A Purrfect Catastrophe

by dinosuns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Comedy, First Meetings, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, bad humour, keith gets punked by a cat, keith is a nature boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: It starts as few things do: with purring on Keith’s pillow and something soft flicking against his face.There’s a cat in his bed.





	A Purrfect Catastrophe

**Author's Note:**

> one of my pieces for the Keitor Zine which you can download [here](https://keitorzine.tumblr.com/post/175402282367/mixed-blood-download-link-its-been-a-long-wait) for free!!

It starts as few things do: with purring on Keith’s pillow and something soft flicking against his face. The touch skits playfully over his cheek, curling like a tail which doesn’t leave much room to question what’s going on. While Keith has always wanted a cat, he’s nowhere near making that a reality. But here he is, waking to a face full of black fluff. A few slow blinks doesn’t change what comes in and out of focus.

There’s a cat in his bed.

“Uh. How did you...-?” The cat stares at him with big yellow eyes, nudging its head into his hand. And from that point on, Keith is most definitely a goner.

Warmth pools around where the cat has made itself at home, and for a moment Keith finds too much temptation in staying just a moment longer. There’s comfort in the company of animals, he’s always thought so. Before he can slump back down into the sheets, Keith hauls himself up. On the table, the clock reveals it’s an ungodly hour - _especially_ for a weekday.

Dragging a hand down his face, Keith looks down in bewilderment at the cat.  

“You’re cute, but you can’t stay here,” he says flatly, the morning catching up to him. “This is my bed, technically you’re trespassing so I should call the police.”

The cat flicks an ear, as if amused by the idle threat. And that’s a grim reminder Keith has no chance of winning this. The cat stretches out and Keith catches the glimmer of gold that confirms his suspicions. Gently taking hold of the purple collar, Keith examines the tag.

“Kova,” he muses aloud. The cat glances up expectantly at the name. “Well Kova, as much as I’d like you to stay, seems like you already have a home. Pretty sure someone is waiting for you.”

Eyes soften, staring down at the cat wistfully. In truth, his apartment is far from a home. Sometimes when his friends are sat around the table, glowing in the dim light of the TV, it feels close to one. But as the night draws to an end and they file out, the cluttered room is emptier than it’s ever been. Honestly, the most homely thing Keith owns is the coffee machine Shiro insisted he took as congratulations for moving in.

It’s been six months. Keith has yet to use it.

As he stands, Kova seems to get the hint and sits by the door, which is good because fighting with a cat is not exactly on Keith’s to-do list. Though at this hour of the day, not much is.

“There,” he mumbles whilst opening the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

Without any prompting, Kova disappears down the hallway.

Perhaps it’s ridiculous that Keith lingers in the doorway like a forlorn, wounded thing for a moment, but he’s always adored cats more than he can begin to articulate. The third foster home he had been placed in was constantly frequented by an old tabby that let him bury his face into her fur when his eyes stung with frustrated tears he refused to cry because he knew the pattern, knew the signs that he wasn’t enough.

Or worse, too much.

The rest of the day passes without ceremony, and if Keith said he wasn’t thinking about his encounter with Kova constantly then he’d be lying. Keith almost gives in to googling local cat shelters after lunch - almost. If Lance’s incessant probing isn’t enough to keep him focused on getting the task done, then Keith isn’t sure what is. So he works efficiently, hard and fast.

And when he comes home, he’s greeted by a curious sight.

There’s a cat on his couch. It’s Kova.

Dropping his keys onto the table, Keith leans down.

“Back again, huh?” he asks, lips twitching in bemusement.

Kova lets out a mewl, and Keith should be embarrassed for the ensuing sound it draws from his own mouth.

“Heh, good kitty.” Reaching down to scratch behind Kova’s ears, Keith glances around the apartment with a frown. “How did you get in here?”

As expected, the windows are closed, the door is locked. It’s also worth mentioning that he lives on the second floor. Logically, it makes no sense for Kova to have made it up here. There’s an ear flick, and before Keith can process what’s happening, Kova picks up the keys and bolts out the door he’d been - uncharacteristically - too distracted to close behind him.

Realisation that Keith is a fool comes far too late, because he’s gotten to this point now and there’s no turning back. Here he is, chasing a cat down the hallway frantically, pleading for a compromise a bargain a trade _anything._ As Keith rounds the corner, he discovers he’s the main ingredient for a rather disastrous recipe. Three things happen in rapid succession and Keith has absolutely no power over these tragic events. It’s written into the fabric of time for all eternity.

Kova comes to a halt and drops the keys.

“Ah Kova, there you are,” says a man so ethereal he cannot be of this earth.

Then Keith, diving for the keys, accidentally tackles said man to the ground.

**——**

The man’s name is Lotor. He proves to be as charming as he is ethereal, and as ethereal as he is eloquent. Words glide with ease from a tongue laced in silver and a smooth voice that is simultaneously engaging and distracting, as are those chiseled cheekbones and impressively sharp jawline.

Once off the ground and on somewhat equal footing, Keith struggles to be anything more than monosyllabic in their conversation. The fact Lotor waves off the apology (“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry - it’s - I-”) and steers them with ease around the standard new neighbour talk is remarkable.

Keith swiftly learns that Lotor moved in last week after an unfortunate family state of affairs he has no intention of prying into. Family is messy, difficult. Sometimes it’s just a hollow empty shell of unanswered questions ringing incessantly between your bones, and there’s nothing that can fill that space. Keith gets that, he really does. So he doesn’t pry when he spots the vast shadows stretching under Lotor’s eyes.  

An earth shattering revelation hits Keith minutes after they’ve parted ways, when he’s at his own door and fumbling with the blasted keys Kova ran off with because his hands are clammy and his breath is hitching and _oh no-_

He’s no longer falling, but he might be about to fall all over again.

**——**

Three days pass, and a routine is established. Keith wakes up to let Kova out at an unspeakable hour. Then he goes to work, and comes home to find Kova sprawled over his couch. With feigned exasperation, Keith scoops Kova into his arms and knocks on Lotor’s door. They exchange a few words before saying good night.

It’s become the best part of Keith’s day.

The pattern changes on day four. Keith wakes up to an empty room, Kova nowhere in sight. Raw cutting dread slithers up his spine and nestles in his chest uncomfortably. It’s unexpected, and he endeavours to convince himself this is by no means any cause for concern. He makes it four hours into the day before the impending unknown consumes him entirely. Kova’s absence leaves him restless, stewing over infinite possibilities. According to Kolivan, by the afternoon he looks unwell enough to be ushered out the building and sent home.   

Keith is halfway through compiling a list of potential places Kova could be when he finds his answer staring back at him outside his apartment block.

Up a tree.  

One meow confirms it - _damn this._ Cats allegedly have nine lives but now is hardly the time or place for assumptions to reign over fact. It’s a tall climb, as are most of the oak trees planted here. Keith holds out a hand in a way he hopes is reassuring despite the distance between them.

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

It’s awkward to manoeuvre, but Keith hoists himself up onto a lower branch after numerable unsuccessful attempts.

“How did you even get up here?” he asks absently, met with a small sound he can’t possibly interpret. Right. Well, that’s to be expected. Mapping out his path, Keith begins his climb. It’s not quite the same as scaling rocky walls, but his agile lithe build proves to work in his favour.

“Almost there,” Keith assures both himself and Kova.

It’s a mistake. Once the words leave his mouth, something terrible happens. Kova jumps from the branch, unaffected and evidently not in distress at all. Spluttering, Keith’s eyes widen in realisation. Played by a cat once is ridiculous enough. Yet here he is having been fooled twice, sitting awkwardly in a tree alarmingly close to some stranger’s bedroom window.

“Is this something I ought to be accustomed to seeing, or is there an explanation I’m missing for why you’re sitting in a tree?”

Lotor’s window.

Right. Of course it’s Lotor’s window _. Of course this had to happen_. Glancing down, Keith sees no sign of Kova. Traitor.

“I - I was just…” This is a disaster, mostly because Keith is a horrible liar. But the truth is so unbelievable. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Lotor smiles.

“I don’t recall saying there was a problem. In fact, I have no objections should your face be the first I see each morning.”

There’s no way that can mean what Keith thinks it means. Lotor leans against the windowsill, watching in hazy bemusement. Either he doesn’t realise what he’s said or he knows _exactly_ what he’s said. The latter is far too much to process. Keith stumbles for his footing and that begins his plight. Every instinct, every sharp reflex accumulated over his life short-circuits. Scrambling for better grip, Keith can only watch in horror as the branches slip through his hands one by one.

Keith falls out the tree.

**——**

“Go away,” Keith groans without heat to the furball perched on top of his couch.

Even if this cat had personally orchestrated his death, he would be unable to hold Kova accountable. Still, that doesn’t mean Keith is going to accept this mockery in his own apartment just one day after his humiliating public belly-flop onto the pavement. He hadn’t waited for people to flock in. Keith had dragged himself up, aching bones and bruises be damned.

Kova purrs. It sounds more like a low taunting laugh, proof Keith is never going to live this down. From now on his legacy will be that guy who got stuck in a tree which he fell out of in front of his ever growing crush. The whole thing is mercilessly playing round his head on loop. Closing his eyes merely strengthens the memory. It’s inescapable, no matter what Keith does.

“Keith,” none other than Lotor calls from the door with a crisp knock. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

It’s probably embarrassing how quickly Keith darts to the door, wincing as he goes.

“Lotor,” he greets more breathlessly than he planned. “Hey, I - It’s fine. I’m fine.” Hoisting Kova up into his arms, Keith clears his throat. “You didn’t have to put yourself out. Next time, I can just bring her to you.”

“Actually, this is to be the last time,” Lotor welcomes Kova into his arms, who climbs up onto his shoulder. “Now that my friend Narti is back from her trip, Kova will be returning to her true home.”

Keith isn’t sure why that’s some of the worst news he’s ever heard, but it’s truly gutting. It hits harder than the concrete did yesterday. Without Kova, there’s no reason to knock on Lotor’s door anymore. They have barely interacted without Kova’s assistance. Now, this is all over. And admittedly, it’s not just _Lotor_ that Keith is going to miss spending stolen moments with.

“It’s a shame,” Lotor laments, eyes softening in a way that makes Keith avert his gaze. “Kova seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”

And despite the absurd adventures, that devious cat has clawed its way into Keith’s heart.

“As have I.”  

Wait _what._

“Keith… perhaps this is forward of me, for which I apologise. But I would very much like to continue these meetings of ours. They have been most enjoyable.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Keith praises Shiro for that unused yet pristine coffee machine. _Thank you Shiro, thank you Kova, thank-_ Lips curving upwards, he leans against the doorway.  

“Do you wanna come in for coffee?”


End file.
